


Heat in Winter

by earlcementthethird



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: FUCK, It's like the only Chihisouda fic on this fuckin site, Literally just read the damn thing, M/M, Wait that's me, What absolute retard only ships a cross-game rarepair, oh yeah this is quite clearly an alternate universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlcementthethird/pseuds/earlcementthethird
Summary: Kazuichi hosts a Christmas party, but when only Fuyuhiko and Chihiro attend, the past resurfaces and things go south, then north, then south again and look just read the damn thing, will ya?





	Heat in Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milkyprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyprince/gifts).



Heat in Winter

 

A Yakuza and mechanic sat alone near midnight in a fancy bar near the back end of Tokyo. The windows at the top of the high-rise the bar was situated on were frosted with winter chill, yet inside a warm light was cast from art-nouveau inspired lamps, white cuboids emitting a glorious golden spread of heat across the room. The stars in the void night sky hung still, holding their breath and hiding their fires from the world below, itself a sea of light, an overload of neon white-noise interspersed with overbearing bright street lamps and the ever-homely light emitted from the apartments and housing of young couples, families and all others. This light seemed to signify a union within the city, that despite all its failings and undersides, its swathes of crime and poverty, the light was there to greet them, as if to extend a hand and congratulate all who bathed in it for another year over and the promise of better things to come. It blinded and blotted out those who would instead focus on its dark and grimy underbelly, much more content to act as a beacon of hope, of prosperity, of happiness and all that is joyous. Of course, not everyone was feeling that beacon extending its hand to them.

 

“You really need to stop moping about.” Fuyuhiko jabbed Kazuchi’s shoulder, causing him to lift his forehead – now hot from lying on the obsidian black surface that formed the top of the bar. It had reflective shards of metal cast into it, which caught the light, shining into Kazuichi’s eyes. A twinkling of piano music – Chopin, from the sound of it – broke the silence and prevented the atmosphere from becoming too terribly stifling or awkward. The carpet beneath Kazuichi’s feet – which dangled off a barstool with an outer frame of gold with black leather, cushy and comfortable, crowning the seat – swirled with beautiful patterns of what seemed to Kazuichi like fines or some form of flora (a man like him who spent more time surrounded by machinery than anything natural or botanical in the world could hardly tell the difference) set in cream, which contrasted well with main, beige carpet. These vines crawled their way up the walls, becoming golden streaks that grew in a frenzy across the black-and-grey striped walls. It was a shame the only two people around to see the gilded and opulent sight were also the only two that were sat in silence at the bar. 

 

Kazuichi gazed at himself in the jet-black yet reflective, surface through glassy eyes, grumbled slightly (which was awkward due to the jagged edges that made up his teeth), ran unusually clean fingers (which still contained callouses due to many nights spent tweaking this device or that) through the neon-pink mess that was his hair – missing its signature beanie – and adjusted his glasses, not a usual accessory for him yet one (or perhaps more justly, a pair) recently he had found himself needing. He slammed his elbow on the bar-top and resting his cheek in his palm, feeling how rough his hands were, crevasses and canyons bore into them through years of tinkering against the heat of his face. His other hand tightened around a can of Dandelion and Burdock, which dripped with condensation and distorted Fuyuhiko's face in its mist. He pressed the can against his lips and took a swig, enjoying the cough syrup-like taste and vapoury feeling it left in his mouth as the cool liquid travelled to his gut. He slammed the can back down onto the table.  
“Fucking Christ, Kaz, I get that no-one showed up, but that’s no reason to act depressed and start slamming your collection of exotic soft drinks down your gullet.” Fuyuhiko berated, Kazuichi looking at his warped face in the reflection cast in the cast, not making eye contact and sniggered slightly at how dumb his face looked, exhaling slightly through his nose, then assuming another vacant thousand-mile-stare. Fuyuhiko just sighed. “Everyone’s busy around this time of year, man. They’re all hanging out with family or whatever.”  
“Well… why aren’t you hanging out with yours?” Kazuichi finally opened his mouth after an eternity.  
“What, and risk dying? Yeah, like I wanna meet the hard end of dad’s uppercut again.”  
“But… don’t Yakuza have codes about this stuff…?”  
“It’s more complicated than what you hear on the news or read in books. I swore never to go home until my old man is dead and buried.”  
“That’s… tough.” Kazuichi ran his index finger around the rim of the can vacantly.  
“Yeah. It is. Enough about that.” Fuyuhiko gestured to the can of Dandelion and Burdock with a stiff point. “How’s the drink?”  
Kazuichi swigged down another gulp, acting as if he were in a melodrama, holding it high over his head and knocking his head backwards. He panted and made a noise of satisfaction. “Like shit.” And as classical music lightly floated across the room, it was broken by light laughs of simple pleasure.

 

If you permit me to – I will now rewind to a mere few days ago, if only for a brief explanation. It is a universally known fact that even students of a prestigious and austere institution such as Hope's Peak Academy have families. Without family, there would be no students to begin with. However, that is not to say all families are loving – not every student wanted to go home for the holiday. And so it came to be that Kazuchi Souda – surrounding whom another universally accepted fact exists, that being the student had but a handful of friends – extended invitations to each of these students who were unable to rebound to their homestead after the exit of another calendar year and even a handful that did have someone to return for, optimistic they might show up. But, only one mere soul did. And for someone who was more versed in the world of machines rather than human affairs, that was reason enough to despair. 

 

“I dunno… I suppose what I really wanted was for one person in particular to show up.”  
“Kaz… this had better not have been one of your ploys to get--” Fuyuhiko began, but Kazuichi swiftly interceded:  
“No! I actually did wanna do something nice and since you could afford this nice place, I thought why the hell not? But, man… things are gonna be awkward when we get back, huh. Buuut, it sure would’ve been a gift if Miss Sonia actually showed up.”  
“Wishful thinking, Kazuichi. Wishful fucking thinking.” Kazuichi felt something clog his throat – a lump of emotion and weakly managed:  
“Yeah.” He shut his mouth quickly to trap any unwanted emotions from dribbling out, like they so often liked to do.  
“I… think it’s best we left. I know we’ve not eaten, but a takeaway is a tenth of what they charge for anything here. And, hey, if we do this next year let’s keep it more… low-key and… and get someone actually popular to be the host.” That was too much for Kazuichi, who felt his nose breath in a sour air and tears trickle down his face. Fuyuhiko looked annoyed with himself and gritted his teeth, sighing as he did so. “It was a joke, man… no need to get so down. C’mon,” Fuyuhiko jumped down from the bar-stool. “Let’s go.” He craned his neck and gestured towards the lift that had brought them up here. But before Kazuichi could dismount the stool, a resounding and soft ding!, slightly drowned out from the piano, which Kazuichi could swear was playing Frank Sinatra – though he was sobbing, so perhaps it was a bit misheard – resounded throughout the bar. The doors slid open to reveal a petite figure, wearing an elf costume with candy-cane striped sleeves and a small hat with a cute little bell that jingled as they exited the lift. “Hell-- oh.” 

 

Chihiro Fujisaki seemed to not have read the room when they first walked in through the door, but the first thing he wondered was why the small Yakuza boy was wearing a suit and why the cute guy with the gaudy yellow jumpsuit was crying. These questions naturally spewed forth from his mouth, “Why are you guys not in costume? Are-- are you okay? Did I come at a bad time, I-I should probably go--” Chihiro felt his cheeks heat up with every word, feeling sheer embarrassment at his disposition, but also wanted to stay to find out why Kazuichi was crying and help if he could – in spite of their rocky past.

 

“Wait!” Fuyuhiko yelled. Chihiro immediately stopped in his tracks and turned to face Fuyuhiko, who was now behind the bar and had produced three glasses, ornate and crafted with the precision expected of a master glassworker, which made light tinkling noises as he pulled them from the inside bar and lay them on the countertop. “Three’s a party, right?” He produced a bottle of Scotch from the shelves, each with a single rectangular light illuminating their expensive wares – and also a bottle of cranberry juice. “I, ah, don’t drink, even though I’m legal. But you’re both legal and look like you need something to take the edge off. How about it, Kaz?” Kazuichi, who had ceased weeping, simply shook his head and looked at Chihiro, who got the meaning of this glance, despite its short length and the connotations it carried. “I-I don’t drink either…”  
"A-Ah, uh, yeah, me too," Chihiro responded, Kazuichi punctuating the end of his sentence with a cough, fist clenched and eyes skittish. The tone in the room became dull and thick, like the blade of a greatsword that has struck many down, leaving its own slash of awkwardness around the room. Fuyuhiko craned his neck down a stuck up one of his wispy eyebrows. "Am I missing something here…?" His mouth was somewhere between a frown and a small ‘o' shape, clearly leaving no doubt as to his confusion. Kazuichi cleared his throat and closed his eyes. A damp, oppressive heat came over him and he was suddenly back 6 months ago.

 

Kazuichi Souda stood alone on a balcony just outside his dorm room. The turning of the calendar month had brought with it a harsh summer heat, one that stuck to Kazuichi's body and left a thin layer of perspiration trickling down his skin, causing his jumpsuit to cling to him and feel uncomfortably sticky and leaving damp discolourations underneath his armpits. The deep pink of his contact lenses reflected within them the setting sun – a ball of mellow red that had half dipped below the horizon, some of its fragile beams penetrating through the branches and leaves of the great conifers and cherry blossoms dotted around which swayed and rocked hypnotically, the blossoms wilting and releasing a flurry of petals that were forgotten as soon they touched the ground. But they died with grace. A sweltering current of air blew around Kazuichi, hot enough to taste, and he felt his throat scratchy and dry as the Antarctic (which, dear reader, may I remind you is the driest place on our planet. And, confusingly, the wettest, but I digress.). 

 

You may be wondering what someone of Kazuichi’s caliber was doing outside on a day such as this – trying to get sunstroke? Well, I may inform you that it may not be the first time that has happened, but this time he was waiting for a friend – one of those very rare people he shared a bond with. That person was Teruteru Hanamura, esteemed chef and most likely future sexual predator. Days earlier Kazuichi had come to him with a request, a simple one for a boy of Teruteru’s skill, but a request nonetheless. The request was simple. “Could you make me a meal to celebrate something?” He implored.  
“And how many people will be dining?” Teruteru whipped a comb out of his pocket with his pudgy fingers and slicked it through his hair, which was immaculate as always, ran an index finger along the perimeter of the coif, let out a smug nasal sound of satisfaction, checked the comb – which, upon noting it contained not a single hair upon its teeth – he somehow spun on the same finger he had run across his hair and slid it smoothly back into his pocket. Kazuichi watched this ritual, entranced, cleared his throat and responded. “Two. Two of us.”  
“Ah, so it’s a celebration celebra--”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Kazuichi would normally have perhaps yelled like a banshee or a Cloaker ready to dropkick some criminals, but he was used to Teruteru’s perverse humour and even more used to shooting it down.  
“Hmph, fine. I take it you’ll want it delivered to your dorm say… 7 o’clock PM, two days time?” Teruteru chuckled and looked away, looking quite pleased with himself.  
“Wha-- How’d you figure that out?!” Kazuichi was shaken by Teruteru’s almost uncanny prediction, worried he’d let the word out.  
“Mere chef’s intuition,” Teruteru told him, tucking the lock-pick further into his back pocket.  
“Well, I-I'll see you then," Kazuichi told him, before swiftly leaving the room. 

 

And so here he was. Waiting and alone. Teruteru was not a hard figure to spot and – despite the heat creating waves near the horizon of Kazuichi’s perspective – he had still yet to appear. The heat on the ceramic flagstones beneath his feet was irritatingly hot, even through his trainers. His arms were beginning to burn from being on the ceramic tiles that lined the top of the corridor’s balcony, causing the skin beneath them to peel. Yet despite this, the heat was oddly inviting. The swaying of the trees in the distance, combined with how the horizon seemed to warp and wave in a hypnotic pattern weighed deep on his mind and Kazuichi felt his jaw slack and eyelids droop and soon the dark hands of sleep constricted his brain and caused him to drift off.

 

Kazuichi woke up to a small, light tug on his shoulder. He turned to see the smiling form of Chihiro behind him. But something was different about her. She had ditched the jumper she usually wore, opting instead to wear a plain white shirt and revealing the braces which held up her skirt. Kazuichi quite liked the change. “Looks like you dozed off, dummy,” she giggled.  
“I-I did?” Kazuichi felt the imprint of his arm on his cheek, which was now bright red due to the sweltering temperatures. “I guess I did.”  
"Um, while you were away the people from the hospital came to collect the surgical robot," Chihiro said, a thick beat of sweat running down from her forehead, quite clearly uncomfortable from having to divulge that information.  
“Ah, shit. I missed ‘em, huh?”  
“Y-Yeah. I know, but I saved your cheque for you.” Chihiro held out a trembling hand and watched with bated breath as Kazuichi took it.  
“It wasn’t the money I was bothered about, it was about leaving you alone. I know you’re not a people person, are ya?”  
“R-really?!” Chihiro sounded beyond elated. “Th-thank you… It went fine though! But I did have trouble explaining why you were asleep outside, eheheh…” Kazuichi inspected the cheque closely and furrowed his eyebrows. “I-Is there something wrong, Kazuichi…?”  
“Yeah, there is. This isn’t the cut we agreed on! It was fifty-fifty, now it’s seventy five-twenty five to me!”  
“Eek!” Chihiro let out a squeak like a scared mouse. “I’m sorry, I thought you wouldn’t notice… you said you needed the cash, an-and all I really cared about was helping…” Kazuichi sighed and closed his eyes. It was hard to stay mad at Chihiro, as many could attest. Kazuichi brushed past him, grabbing her by the shoulder and dragging her inside.

 

The pair were immediately met by a blast of cold air, happy to be out of the sun's golden and burning rays. Kazuichi walked past his own bed (a double, standard for all dorms at Hope's Peak) and made his way to the couch, which he had moved in front of the TV he himself had made by (illegally) smuggling the parts in and assembling it piece by piece. Fans threatened to encroach upon the personal space of those on the couch, fans of every shape, size, and creed encircling the couch and blasting their cold air upon all those who dared to sit upon it. Chihiro’s jumper laid spread across the navy-blue cushions, the buttons on the left sleeve (which faced the large window that made up the northernmost wall of Kazuichi’s room) glinted in the setting sunlight, sparkling blindingly. Wedged inbetween the TV and couch was a large table, which had been cleared of the numerous odd and ends, such as gears – some rusted, some not – tools, most of which Chihiro had never heard of before, and blueprints (coffee stains included from when Chihiro had slept overnight on the couch and needed a pick-me-up before work began) that had been there since day one of this arduous project. It had taken four months for Kazuichi and Chihiro to finish work on what they hoped would be a robot that revolutionised precision surgery – originally Chihiro's idea, which Kazuichi flat disagreed with, to begin with, but soon crumbled in his resolve when he met with Chihiro's puppy-dog eyes. And Kazuichi was almost sad to see it go. No more talking about their lives (Kazuichi now knew Chihiro as if she were a family member), no more humming and ah-ing about how to solve a certain problem with the machine, no more tests being run at two o'clock in the morning and no more all-nighters to get this aspect of the job done or that aspect of the machine finished. But they were Ultimates for a reason, and no problem was ever unsolvable or any ceiling un-smashable for as long as their technological prowess was unleashed upon their goal it was already met. Kazuichi felt an odd pang of nostalgia in his chest and felt like weeping. 

 

Kazuichi sat down on the couch and noticed four two stainless-steel cloches on the coffee table, which distorted his reflection as he looked into them. “Ta-dah!” Chihiro announced. “Teruteru made them for us! He came in after the hospital guys we sold the bot to and told me that ‘Kazuichi’s order is ready – and you’d better be too.’” Placards were placed at the base of each cloche, each saying either ‘Main course’ or ‘Dessert.’ The sun streaming in from the windows made the polished metal hard to look at without squinting for too long. “He also left some champagne but I, um, didn’t accept it, even though we’re both old enough. S-Sorry.”  
“I’m not that wild on drinking anyway," Kazuichi told her, brushing it off. "Well, let's eat!" Kazuichi said, lashing out at the cloches at a speed that made Chihiro gasp, quickly grabbing the handle, ornate in its craftsmanship, Kazuichi noted, and let the smell and steam rise off the dish, hitting his face with a draught of heat. 

 

The main course was chicken, lightly breaded and served with a side of soba noodles, showing how Teruteru had a penchant for guerilla cooking – Kazuichi guessed these were probably the only ingredients he had on hand. The meal smelled lightly of garlic and steam continued to rise off it, the moisture that had collected on the soba also reflecting some of the little remaining sunlight, annoying Kazuichi slightly. He cut off a small piece of the golden brown chicken, covered with a smattering of herbs, and wrapped it in a layer of soba, before putting the tongs of the fork (also ornate, inlaid with swirling and curving patterns on the handle) into his mouth. He wasn’t sure whether to chew or swallow – such a paradox only comes about when one tries any combination of solid food and pasta and can could a dimensional rift if not addressed promptly – but settled on chew, savouring the taste. He mouth felt like it was melting, as most of Teruteru’s dishes tended to make one’s mouth feel, and he salivated incredibly hard – but there was an odd bitterness to the dish too. 

 

“How is it?” Chihiro asked, as Kazuichi swallowed the food and felt a burning heat down his gullet, causing him to cough and splutter slightly. “Kazuichi! A-are you--?”  
“Y-yea--” Kazuichi coughed yet again, composed himself, swallowed and responded again. “It’s got a bit of kick to it – I think the champagne was the least of our worries when it came to alcohol. Man, it tasted like wine, but no wine is that strong.” Kazuichi banged a fist against his chest before he could cough again.  
“Maybe it’s just your palette…?” Chihiro took a bite of her food, swallowed and began to cough and hack harder than Kazuichi. Kazuichi slapped her back, causing her to stop coughing and regain her posture. “No, that’s wow--” Chihiro coughed once again. “That’s really, really strong. But it’s really tasty… I kinda want more.” Chihiro took another bite before Kazuichi could protest.  
“Hey, you shouldn’t--!” Chihiro swallowed, coughed a bit, then flashed a thumbs up. “It’s better the second time.”  
“Um, you sure? I-I mean, it’s not like we can get drunk off this stuff, right?” Kazuichi laughed nervously.  
“I-I don’t think so… and it’s so nice I can’t but…” Chihiro took another bite. “Ish sho good…” She said, mouth full, eyes closed and smiling in pure bliss. She swallowed and this time Kazuichi saw the lump of food travel down her throat, but Chihiro didn’t cough. “I’m used to it!” Chihiro sounded unusually happy at this fact and continued to feast on the cooking. Kazuichi merely shrugged and dug in, stuffing his face as Chihiro did. They both finished in unison and leaned back on the couch, sighing in satisfaction. “That was...”  
“Heaven.” Kazuichi finished. “Dessert?”  
"Mmm-hmm!" Chihiro had gone a deeper shade of pink since finishing his food and Kazuichi had begun to feel woozy – but there was also an odd feeling at the base of his stomach like butterflies were circling the seemingly bottomless pit that had formed there. His heart rate had increased and he had begun to sweat despite being surrounded by fans. These symptoms worsened when he looked at Chihiro and he found himself salivating as he did. 

 

Opening the cloche for dessert, both of them merely had a single small bun, perfectly hemispherical in shape and with a little note at the bottom:  
“Eat it in one bite for maximum enjoyment!  
-Teruteru xoxoxo” The hugs and kisses at the end emitted a blast of nauseating sexual energy, but both grabbed the bun. “One bite, huh?” Kazuichi looked at Chihiro and began to sweat again. “Well, down it goes.” He shoved the whole bun into his mouth and swallowed. Nothing happened for a few seconds – it merely tasted like a regular old sweet-bun (well, as regular as one can have when eating a sweet-bun prepared by the Ultimate Chef) until he suddenly felt as if he had been shot in the heart as it began thumping wildly and audibly. His cheeks and ears heated up and he felt immense spikes of an emotion he only felt when looking at Miss Sonia – he felt… lust. “Chihiro...” He said, voice dry and hollow. He didn’t dare look over at the girl. “I think we’ve been given aphrodisiacs!” He tried to hide the panic in his voice. But Chihiro responded softly, simply asking:  
“Is that such a bad thing, Kazuichi?” Kazuichi tried not to look at her – but it was like trying to grasp onto an icicle for stability. His neck tore itself from its position looking at the floor to looking at Chihiro. Her pupils were shot and she was drooling, unfazed at what was happening. Kazuichi’s heart nearly exploded and leapt out of his chest.

 

"K-Kazuichi? Did you change something about yourself…?" Chihiro asked, no intonation in her flat delivery of the question. She slid up closer to Kazuichi, gliding across the couch like an ice-skater. "N-No…" Kazuichi felt his heart hammer in his chest and was certain in that moment that Chihiro could hear it. "But you're looking i-incredibly cute." His voice was low and husky, and he gulped back a heavy amount of saliva, which travelled down his throat heating his already burning ears. And then, silence. Just silence and heavy breathing. The two panted as if they were drawing their final breaths, now just centimetres away from the other. And they listened. For a few infinitely long seconds, it was just them, alone and listening to the other breathing. Chihiro wearing only his thin shirt and Kazuichi in his bright yellow jumpsuit. They held each other's gaze in this impossibly long moment, seeing their shot pupils, behind which flames of passion danced and failed to be extinguished. 

 

Chihiro lurched forward, locking his lips around Kazuichi’s and throwing that fierce passion behind every single kiss, feeling Kazuichi’s hand cup his cheek and pull him closer. Their tongues locked and they felt the wetness of the flesh wrap around each other, sending waves of lustful ecstasy shooting through their body. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed, passionate and blissful, unwilling to pull away from the vice of each other’s lips until Kazuichi finally pushed Chihiro down onto the couch and lifted his face upwards. “H-Heh… I think that was more than the aphrodisiacs talking… four months does this to two people, huh?” Chihiro didn’t respond. This feeling in his chest kept him quiet, kept him only wanting to continue to let Kazuichi do things to him. 

Kazuichi obliged, reading Chihiro’s emotions, slipping a hand down her skirt. For some reason, this seemed to sober up as she began to frantically shake her head and tried to protest, trying to protest but the words catching in her throat. Kazuichi soon found out why, as his hand connected with some hard, fleshy and stiff. And time froze again, as both their eyes widened. Kazuichi yanked his hand away, screaming instinctively as he did so and scrambling backwards in a frenzy as he stared at his hand as if it were an alien object, not a piece of his own body. Chihiro lifted hersel-- himself upwards, with a look of guilt and despair painted across his countenance. Kazuichi quickly leapt off the couch and scampered to the bathroom as Chihiro looked deeply hurt and stuttered “I-I-I” like a broken record.

 

Kazuichi splashed water on his face to sober himself and stripped naked, turning on the shower. He gasped, shuddering from the sobriety he had forced upon himself and stepped into the shower, feeling every individual droplet of water connect with his bare skin, leaving him shuddering despite its heat. For four months he had known Chihiro and not one had he bothered to divulge that he was exactly that – a boy. A deep, as-of-yet unkindled anger rose in his gut as he sat down in the shower and punched the wall with his fist. It reminded him of his best friend in his youth – but this was a different kind of betrayal. Chihiro had manipulated his emotions and that was what stung the most – he felt once again like he wasn’t completely himself – he was still living a hollow lie as the facade of Kazuichi Souda, punk and miscreant, when all he was was some nerdy kid basically doing a cosplay as a delinquent. And perhaps being reminded of that fact was what caused a different kind of hot water to merge with that the shower spat out. And as the condensation ran down the white tiles that lined the bathroom walls and formed on the cream-coloured ceiling and polished marble floor, so did Kazuichi Souda’s tears. There was no he hated to see the real side of more than himself, after all.

 

When Kazuichi returned from the shower, Chihiro had left without so much as a goodbye. As if he were never there to begin with, as if the last four months were nothing but a ghost that had come and gone, never to be re-experienced. And, being honest – Kazuichi preferred it that way. He fell onto his bed and let the hollow feeling that numbed and consumed his body eat away at him until he finally fell asleep. 

 

“...Fuyuhiko, could you wait in the lobby? I’ve got something I need to clear up with our guest.” Kazuichi had slipped out of his mnemonic trance.  
“Sure…? I have no clue what you’re on about, but I guess I’ll wait down there.” Fuyuhiko walked to the left, but not before pouring some cranberry juice into his glass, dropping in three ice-cubes with a resounding ‘clink!’ and left the room sipping it.  
“So…” Kazuichi immediately felt the situation becoming awkward.  
“Yeah…” Chihiro did too, apparently.  
“I blamed you after you left, you know.” Kazuichi blurted out, wanting to release the crushing weight on his chest.  
“Kazuichi, I don--” Chihiro started, but was swiftly interrupted:  
“A-And there was a weird period of self-loathing too afterwards… but— but I realise now that we can’t change shit about ourselves when they’re such a big part of us and I was thinking… you’re like me aren’t you?”  
“Wh-what do you mean?” Chihiro’s voice was low and it sounded as if the words themselves could be shattered by a light breeze running throughout the room.  
“You’re a guy, but you dress a girl to protect youself, right?”  
“I-I do… but I don’t-- I’m not--” Chihiro burst into tears, the fragility in his voice reaching breaking point. “I do it because I don’t kn-know how e-else I can deal w-with *hic* my w-weakness!” Kazuichi had often heard Chihiro complain about his weakness back when the night drew in and his brain was too afflicted with tiredness to care about opening up to Kazuichi, thought that was back when Chihiro was a she in Kazuichi’s eyes and he couldn’t connect those dots between his gender and mental state. He sighed and stretched out his hand to Chihiro from on top of his perch, who clasped it with of his own and pulled in close to Kazuichi.

Kazuichi sighed and looked away, staring at the ceiling and trying not to show how much he was flustered. He lifted Chihiro onto his lap and rocked him up and down, stroking his back, He was shivering as if he had spent hours out in the cold and his grip was like tempered iron on Kazuichis clothes as he wept into them, leaving tepid patches on Kazuichi’s jumpsuit. Chihiro sniffed and hiccuped for another few minutes, bawling all the while, until his tears ceased to flow and his crying became mere sporadic sobs. He began to speak again. “Th-thank you, Kazuichi…” Kazuichi merely patted Chihiro’s head through his his small cap, causing the tiny bell to jingle at the end. Chihiro smiled, though two thin streams of tears were still falling down his rosy cheeks making the whole sight rather melancholic. “Why’d you never come talk to me…?” Chihiro suddenly changed the subject, having questions of his own.

 

“Well… I definitely thought about writing to reach you, but I suppose that I still felt bitter about that night and how you never told me… y’know.” Chihiro just nodded his head solemnly. Due to the fact it lay on Kazuichi’s chest, he felt it rub against his skin and his mouth began to feel dry and emotion welled in his throat again. “But I was wrong to put the blame on you. I don’t think we can help our personalities, they’ve just been a part of us for so many years now… I don’t think we necessarily feel comfortable in them, but they’re slightly worse for wear, huh?” Chihiro simply nodded and cuddled closer to Kazuichi.  
“Kaz…?” He began.  
“Yeah…?”  
“Are we… gonna talk about what we did back then or…? Do you really think it was just the spiked food…?”  
Kazuichi mused on this question for a few moments, pensive for a short while, until he finally responded:  
“I’ve changed a lot in the past six months. The thought of you crossed my mind so, so, so many times… at first it was disgust, but… I’m happy you’re here, okay? Just… just know that.”  
“That’s… not much of an answer. I suppose I better question would be is… what do you think of us together?”  
“…I’ve never felt any romantic interest with a guy until you. Truth be told, I’m not sure whether I do like dudes. But… I can’t ignore what happened all that time ago. It was way more than the food, I’d like to think. It’s the only explanation I can think of, because whenever I think of you my palms get all sweaty and my shoulders tense up and my mouth gets dry and I still can’t control how much I sweat or how much my heart beats…” Kazuichi’s words spilled out frantically and the string was only interrupted when Chihiro pulled down on his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

 

Kazuichi’s eyes widened. He silenced a forming scream as his pupils danced wildly in his eyes. He hadn’t thought it’d be like this, so surprising and quick… but oh so very real, more so than what he felt under the effect of Teruteru’s aphrodisiacs. When Chihiro pulled away he let out a simple chuckle of pure pleasure. “I got Teruteru back for the food, by the way. That cafeteria fire? I replaced his cooking oil with gasoline and… well, you already know.” Chihiro let out a light giggle and clasped his arms around Kazuichi’s neck.  
“I’m so glad you feel the same, Kaz…”  
“Kinda hard not to with a face that that.” Kazuichi put his index finger on Chihiro’s nose, tapping the soft flesh causing it spring down slightly and then spring right back up. It caused Chihiro to blush harder and giggle again. Kazuichi lifted Chihiro up and onto his back, causing him to giggle wildly. Kazuichi stood up and stretched, getting the blood flow back to his legs. “You got anyway of getting back home?” He asked Chihiro.  
“I think I’ll just get a taxi.”  
“Cool, I guess I’ll see you off at the door then. Keep in tou--”  
“You mean you’re not coming with me?” Kazuichi had begun to walk towards the lift, causing the bell on Chihiro’s cap to ring out with each footstep. The pained intonation in Chihiro’s voice had caused him to feel heavier on Kazuichi’s back.

“You mean you’d actually let me come home with you…?” Kazuichi inquired, shocked someone would make a proposition like that to him.  
“Of course! My dad’s super kind so he’d let anyone I’m friendly with in, I promise!” Kazuichi was immediately touched by this sentiment – no-one he had known had ever trusted him like this, and up until now he didn’t expect such a display of trust to be possible. He entered the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor.  
“Then of course I’d come home with you! It’d be a whole lot better than going back to my dorm again, especially around this time of year.” Kazuichi felt as light as a breeze, excited to have someone who allowed things like this in his life.  
“Then it’s settled, you’re coming home with me.” Chihiro buried his face in Kazuichi’s neck and snuggled into it, causing the both of them to blush. A soft ‘ding!’ sounded as the lift doors slid open and Kazuichi entered the main lobby of the building where the bar was situated – which seemed to be 95% marble, the other 5% being golden lettering adorning certain places, pointing out directions or stating the purpose and nomenclature of people and places. A fan hung from the ceiling, not turned on at this time of year and Fuyuhiko stood by the front desk (which had no employee behind it), still waiting for the two to show up. He turned and noticed them and his mouth twisted into surprise. “I give you two fifteen minutes alone…” He mused, feigning disappointment.  
“It’s a long story Fuyuhiko. I’ll tell you when you’re tall enough.” Kazuichi joked.  
“That was fucking uncalled for, you little worm!” Fuyuhiko balled his hand into a fist and yelled insults at Kazuichi as he walked to the glass double-door and opened it. “Happy non-descript and irreligious terminology used for this holiday, Fuyuhiko! I’ll see you at the academy when I’m back!” Fuyuhiko punctuated the door closing behind Kazuichi with a friendly “Merry Christmas! Fuck you!” and the two lovers were alone again.

 

“Well, Hope’s Peak is just a half-hour’s walk from here. See ya… do you like pet names? I think you’d suit a pet name.”  
“Hang on, you’re going back to the Academy…?” Chihiro pouted and there was an edge of sadness in his tone, overruled by the surprise also within it.  
“Well, it’s where I normally stay this time of year, so yeah, I am going back there.”  
“W-Wait! You can stay at mine! My dad won’t mind and my mother’s on a business trip, so please…!”  
“I-I’m not sure that’s okay…” Kazuichi looked slightly shocked at how desperate Chihiro sounded and was even more shocked when Chihiro rushed at him and begged him to stay, hugging him with a grip stronger than it should have been for someone of that size. “You can be r-really assertive, y’know?” Kazuichi was happy to be hugged by Chihiro again and upon deciding this warm feeling in his chest was something he wished to experience more often, decided it was for the best he stayed with Chihiro, maybe just this once. And so, he got a taxi to pick the two of them up and – when Chihiro had given the address and the fare had been paid, the two once again stepped out into the biting cold and stood outside Chihiro’s porch.

 

Chihiro stood on his tiptoes and pressed the doorbell, which let out a soft ‘ding-dong!’ and subsequently fell silent. Kazuichi looked around Chihiro’s front porch, which had a varnished white set of stairs leading up to a quaint and homely door of the same shade of white, as well as a small Kadomatsu serving as a bit of décor on the small landing. Japan is not as all-out as most of the western world when it came to the affairs of Christmas, however as more western influence hovered over the collection of islands the holiday has somewhat evolved and more traditionally western customs – such as Christmas trees – have gained popularity, including with, as Kazuichi noted, the Fujisakis – who had one twinkling in a small living room, its bright and beautiful lights and gaudy yet traditional ornaments were barely just visible through a window coated with a veritable quagmire of condensation. Kazuichi – a boy who had known nought but the inside of a dusty workshop, in which the smell of rusting metal, oily secretions and noxious fumes all came together in a vile cacophony of smells, a complete barrage on the senses – was, quite needless to say, rather impressed and made it known by arcing his eyebrows and whistling at the sight. A slight clicking was heard at the door as the person behind it unclasped the chain holding it shut, twisted a key into the brazen keyhole and opened it, inviting in not only the pair that stood on his porch, but the freezing wind as well.

 

Kazuichi found it remarkable how much Chihiro looked like his father. Their hair, their eyes, their airs and graces all carried a remarkably similar quality, like one was in a funhouse and staring into an illusion mirror that made the reflection seem slightly off. “Ah, Chihiro how was the par--” Taichi (Kazuichi had heard Chihiro mention his name a few times when they were working together) was originally looking at Chihiro through his misty spectacles, which had become that way due to the bitter wind, but now they had demisted his gaze had turned to Kazuichi and his eyes became wide. “Ah! I take it you’re one of Chihiro’s friends? Thank you for taking her home, that’s very kind of you.” Taichi looked visibly unnerved by Kazuichi’s appearance and Kazuichi found himself regretting his change of body more and more with each passing second Taichi’s hazel eyes bore into him. Finally, Chihiro tugged slightly at his father’s shirt sleeve and told him:  
“Um, dad? There’s something I need to tell you…” Upon saying this, he entered the household and led his father by the sleeve to a corner of the room and began to whisper something. Kazuichi hung back by the door, not wishing to be impolite and just simply come into the house uninvited. Eventually, the two stopped conversing and Taichi approached Kazuichi and extended his hand. “I, um… had no idea you had that kind of relationship with my son. Please, come in.” Kazuichi shook Taichi’s hand but could feel the awkwardness within it, hoping that it would disperse by the night’s end.

 

The living room seemed comfy enough – near the back of it twinkled the Christmas tree Kazuichi had observed earlier and a large TV sat on a glass stand which had various pieces of bric-a-brac decorating it, as well as a DVD player and games console. A single, long couch stretched in front of the stand, which looked to be made of red velvet and showed how comfortable Chihiro’s family were sitting together – something Kazuichi wished he could admit was the case with his own family. A large blanket draped across the full length of the back of the sofa, rather cosy looking with its baby-blue colour. A small balsa coffee table – on which sat a cup of tea in a rabbit-shaped white mug which itself was positioned upon a small coaster that read ‘World’s Best Dad’ – separated the couch and the TV. Two cabinets were positioned next to the sofa, which Kazuichi saw was full of family photos. Be they monotone or full colour, polaroid or digital, Kazuichi wished he had memories like this and reminded himself he still had the opportunities to carve them out in his future. That thought brought as much comfort as the aroma of pine that wafted through the air from the tree, still twinkling away in the back corner of the room, where a few metres left of it sat an electric fire that blazed gloriously and brought warmth and homeliness into the room. The room was more long than wide and connected to Taichi’s study and the kitchen, which put in perspective just how small the house really was. Near the end of the living room was the stairs, which lead to Chihiro’s parents’ room and Chihiro’s room itself, as well as a bathroom that was sandwiched inbetween the two opposite doors that lead to the aforementioned locations. But Kazuichi was still impressed by it, as it was much bigger than the bungalow he resided in in his youth and he found himself making the totally inappropriate comment of “I thought super-geniuses like you guys would live in a mansion or something,” then kicking himself for it nanoseconds afterwards. 

 

Taichi laughed as heartily as man of his stature could and said in his now light tone “The job pays well, but I’m no lawyer.” Kazuichi breathed an audible sigh of relief and Chihiro chuckled along with his father. “But you never ended up telling me, Chihiro, how was the party?” Taichi still had that happily meek air around him that made the question fit into his natural way of conversing. “Um… it was kind of sad, really. Only me and another one of Kazuichi’s friends showed up and it was all super expensive and you didn’t deserve that and… and…” Taichi frowned, saddened by his son’s mood.  
“Chihiro, calm down, okay?” Kazuichi pleaded, walking over to him and holding his hands together. “Look, Fuyuhiko may have said he paid for it, but I used some of the money from the project to fund it, so don’t worry.” But Chihiro seemed even more saddened by this.  
“Kazuichi…!”  
“Whoa, hey! What?!” Kazuichi was slightly shocked by Chihiro’s sudden shout and worried expression.  
“Y-You need that money! Oh, things are even worse for you now then they were before and it’s all my fault! I’m so--” by now Taichi had walked over and had laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, trying to calm him down.  
“Please, don’t apologize! If it weren’t for the fact only you showed up, things wouldn’t be like they are now! So, don’t be sorry, okay?” Kazuichi pulled him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Chihiro. However, seconds later he felt another pair of arms wrap around the both of them and looked up to see Taichi embracing the two of them. They made eye contact and Taichi looked surprised. “Oh! I, um, thought the two of you looked like you needed a group hug and I just, um…” He closed his eyes and smiled awkwardly, two beads of sweat forming at his temple. “I’ll just, uh…” Taichi released his clasp and stood up. Kazuichi also stood up and yelled “Hey! Where the heck do you think you’re going?!”  
“Y-you two just seemed like you two wanted to be alone! I’m sor--”  
“Oh not another apologetic Fujisaki!” Kazuichi said a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Bring ‘er in, old man!”  
“Old man--?” Kazuichi spread out his arms and embraced Taichi, causing Chihiro to giggle uncontrollably. The three of them laughed and Taichi hugged Kazuichi back. Kazuichi felt his breath in his ear and a low whisper of “I will apologise for something, though. You look kind of, um, scary and I was worried about you and Chihiro. But you seem like a good guy.”  
“Yeah, I’ve been a bit… unhappy with how I look recently. That’s why I started wearing glasses, y’know? Better to face the past, or at least that’s how I see it.” Kazuichi whispered back.

 

“It’s getting pretty late.” Taichi noted, looking at his smartwatch.  
“Mmm, okay dad, I’ll go to bed.” Chihiro told his father.  
“I-- I didn’t say you had to go and sleep…”  
“I… guess I’ll just sleep on the couch. That blanket seems more than enough.”  
“Oh, but Chihiro told me you were sleeping his room…” Taichi said, not actually embarrassed, despite the connotations.  
“I-I did?!” This was certainly news to Kazuichi, who glanced at Chihiro – blushing heavily and meekly nodding at Kazuichi, not making eye contact. He felt pity and then retracted his statement, unconvincingly stating “Of course I did!”  
“Oh, but you just said…” Taichi began but was abruptly interrupted by Kazuichi, who retorted, “I just said ‘of course I did!’, man…”  
“Oh, um, okay I guess…” responded Taichi, his voice trailing at the end.  
“Thank you!” Chihiro rushed up to and hugged his father, to the action of which was met laughter and shy yet great smiles from the two of them, the father stroking his son’s hair and finally letting him down, afterwards Chihiro running up to Kazuichi, grabbing his left hand with two of his own and rushing him up the stairs to his own room.

Chihiro’s room had a layer of black paint covering the walls that, for all the light it absorbed and how it clashed with the personality of the owner of the space, seemed oddly soothing. Chihiro’s room was furnished with shelves made of birch wood, painted white and holding various figurines from media he enjoyed – one was a pink cat-like humanoid Kazuichi felt explosive energy radiating from – and accolades, along with contracts from companies held in frames to show Chihiro’s success. Kazuichi perhaps would have noticed these if he hadn’t had jumped on top of Chihiro and pinned him to the bed, cuddling and kissing him on top of his grey and white checkered bedsheets. Upon a desk made of the same painted wood as the shelves, a heavenly glow from a beast of a Personal Computer illuminated them, looking like it had been ripped from a few years ahead in time and probably cost as much as the house itself. If Kazuichi hadn’t hadn’t have been so focused on peppering Chihiro’s face with kisses and cute little flustered one-eyed smile he gave him, he may have well ripped the machine to pieces in order to analyse the clock speed of the CPU, or maybe the amount of the cores it had and any improvements he would suggest to the hardware – but as fate had it that would not be what he occupied himself with. He let go of Chihiro’s lips, who giggled and commented “Uh… wow. Have you been waiting to kiss me like that?”  
“Y-yeah…” Kazuichi blushed. “It feels more real when you aren’t dosed up. I could almost taste the cinnamon on your lips…” Upon the ecstatic feeling of the flash-in-the-pan passion slowly fading, Chihiro seemed to become conscious of where they lay and Kazuichi’s weight bearing down on him, warm and comfy and blushed heavily, looking shocked. “A-any r-r-reason you-you ch-chose to d-do th-that h-h-here?” Chihiro stammered out frantically, his tongue almost unable to form the words, feeling alien in his own mouth. Kazuichi pushed Chihiro’s hands above his head, folding his fingers into his and kissing his now hot forehead. 

 

“Anyone else Chihiro, I wouldn’t wait. But it’s you. And I don’t think I’m ready for that… I mean, I’ll at least take you out for dinner first.” Upon saying this, Kazuichi lifted himself from Chihiro’s body, kneeling on the bed and lifted Chihiro into his arms, both their knees pushing down into the cushy mattress, then flipping their positions while sliding into the blankets with Chihiro. His hand brushed something laying on the bed, which he clutched and picked up when the two finally laid stationary, feeling how it was both badly worn out but still soft and plush. Upon dragging the object the object out of the bedsheets Chihiro let out a small gasp from his position on Kazuichi’s chest as he saw was Kazuichi held in his left hand. It was a small plush rabbit, white in colour with floppy ears that hung down past its beady black eyes and had a small blue ribbon adorning its neck. Kazuichi chuckled and bopped it on the nose, inquiring “This yours?” Chihiro nodded his head and buried it in Kazuichi’s chest out of embarrassment. “Hey, it’s cute, c’mon! Don’t be like that! What’s his name?” Chihiro mumbled an incomprehensible reply from beneath Kazuichi’s jumpsuit. “Hmm? I can’t hear ya.” Chihiro slowly lifted his head.  
“I-I named him when I was 4, okay? It-It’s Boo Boo…” Chihiro made a little mumble of embarrassment and went back to burying his head in Kazuichi’s jumpsuit, which made Kazuichi’s heart pound with every ounce of pressure Chihiro added.

 

“That’s adorable, man!” Kazuichi hooked his hands under Chihiro’s armpits and hoisted him upwards. “Just like you.” He kissed Chihiro’s cheek, which caused Chihiro to squeak like a mouse. “I’ve always wanted a rabbit since I was kid, but I never got one because we don’t have anywhere we could keep it…”  
“We stay together, I’ll getcha one!” Kazuichi blurted out, not quite knowing where that came idea from, but resolving to stick to his word.  
“Oh, Kaz, don’t say things like that… I should be the one buying you stuff…” This caused Kazuichi to chuckle.  
“What, with your programmer money? Yeah, okay, sure.”  
“H-Hey! I’ll have you know it’s a very well respected and highly paying job that could support a four-person family alone and I already contracts with numerous comp--” Kazuichi just continued to laugh and flipped Chihiro onto his side, cuddling him like a teddy bear. “Well, you’re Mister Competent Programmer second and my Chihiro first, okay?”  
“O-Oh. I wouldn’t mind that…” Chihiro snuggled closer to Kazuichi and closed his eyes. Kazuichi marvelled at how this further exemplified his cuteness and kissed the top of Chihiro’s head, causing him to let out a tiny smile before his breaths became slow and heavy, lulling into sleep. When Kazuichi was sure he was completely in dreamland, he gave Chihiro a small peck on the cheek, which caused him to blush despite the fact he was completely in the throes of Morphius and whispered, despite the fact he knew Chihiro could not hear him, “I’ll be back soon.” He pulled Chihiro from his cuddles and watched as his lithe arms fell limp and his hands slackened, covered in the long candy-cane pattern sleeves of his elf costume. He slowly tiptoed out of the room in much the same way a burglar would and made his way slowly down the carpeted stairs.

 

By the time he got down there, it was 1am and Taichi looked rough. His glasses were tilted to one side on a 30-degree slant and he was gulping down a glass of sparkling water while staring, trance-like, at the TV, which was playing 24-hour-news on one channel and a rerun of Revenge of the Sith on the other. The lower part of his shirt was untucked and his pastel-blue striped shirt’s two top buttons were undone, making him look rather rugged, Kazuichi thought to himself. A board of the stairs creaked underneath Kazuichi and Taichi came to his sense. “Ah! Kazuichi! Finished already-- wait, that’s not what I--” Taichi seemed to be unable to form or finish any semblance of a coherent thought and hid this by adjusting his glasses until they were straight and tucking his shirt in.  
“I’m going to ignore every word of what you just said and instead ask you where I can find a glass of that water and if I can tell you something.” Kazuichi had come downstairs to explain something to Taichi and was intent on doing so.  
“The water’s in the kitchen and… sure, you can tell me most anything. I think as long as Chihiro and you are together, you’re part of the family right?” He smiled as he said that and gestured to the kitchen, making Kazuichi’s eyes dampen and heart warm. He was surrounded by sweethearts, it seemed.

 

Kazuichi flicked the yellowing light-switch for the kitchen and listened to the low buzz of the fluorescents in the ceiling. The floor was cold and tiled with what seemed to be glazed terracotta and across the right wall stretched a grey worktop – underneath and above which cabinets stretched, and which terminated in a reflective, metal grey fridge, which Kazuichi strolled up to, casually open and rummaged past the jars of sauce, various meats and condiments, fruit and veg until he opened the bottom draw, which contained glass bottle of carbonated water, all cold and dripping with water on their glass surfaces. Kazuichi exited the room, flicked off the old light-switch and listened as the room ceased to hum.

 

He sat down next to Taichi on the sofa and flicked the lid off the bottle with his index finger and thumb, a small trick Fuyuhiko and Kyoko had taught him, which impressed Taichi judging by the way his face lit up. Kazuichi took down a gulp and felt that odd sensation of refreshment one achieves when drinking sparkling water after a period of dehydration and felt his eyes water. He put it down on the coffee table and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.  
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Taichi asked, drumming his fingers on his thigh in much the same way Kazuichi did when he was antsy.  
“It’s probably best just to show you… sorry if this is a bit blunt.” Kazuichi replied by pulling away the fabric of his jumpsuit and pulling down his vest, trying his best to emulate the Giorno-Giovanna-announcing-he-wants-to-be-a-Gangstar pose (name subject to change). There ran a small scar down near his armpit to his right pectoral muscle, about five centimetres.  
“Pardon for asking, but why are you showing me a scar…?” Taichi looked confused and tired, clearly not completely there.  
“Well, let’s just say it’s where the buckle of my old man’s belt caught a while back… you get me?” Taichi suddenly looked quite awake and it seemed his entire person returned to him.  
“O-oh goodness… I’m sorry for that. But, no offence, why are you showing me this?” Taichi sounded as if he was trying hard to walk on eggshells in his tone, clearly wishing not to offend Kazuichi, who sat back down on the couch, feeling himself sink into the cushions. 

 

“Well, um, when Chihiro mentioned he had a dad I thought that this was my chance… my chance to…” Kazuichi broke down crying and hugged Taichi, who was caught off guard but returned the hug timidly. “Please treat me like your son! I don’t wanna remember my old man!” Kazuichi felt the words spilling out of his mouth along with the tears, bitter about his past.  
“Kazuichi, Kazuichi…” Taichi chuckled and patted Kazuichi’s back. “If Chihiro loves you unconditionally, then I will too. That’s a promise.”  
“R-Really?!” This caused Taichi to laugh again.  
“Of course!”  
“Thank you!” Kazuichi hugged Taichi incredibly tight, which caused him to groan and try and wrench Kazuichi away.  
“Woah there, big guy, careful you don’t crush me.”  
“Oh, uh, sorry…” Kazuichi pulled away from Taichi and the two made eye contact. This caused the two to howl uproariously, grabbing onto to each other’s legs for support. They didn’t know why they were laughing, but it was perhaps the time of year and of night and the good company that put them in such good spirits. “Goddamit, you’ve got me apologising now!” Kazuichi choked out through laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye and lifted the neck of his bottle to Taichi’s glass. “To new beginnings!”  
“To new beginnings!” Taichi toasted and a strong and resounding clink! rang through their eardrums. After downing another gulp of the water Taichi commented “Besides, it’s not me you should be worrying about if you’re dating Chihiro. Now Mondo? He’s the real disapproving dad. The final boss, per se.”  
“Hey, he won’t kill me, right?”  
“Oh, I dunno…” Taichi joked and the two chuckled a simple chuckle of fraternity.  
“Well, guess I’ll prepare myself for a tough right hook when I’m back at the academy, then. G’night, Taichi.”  
“See you in the morning Kazuichi.” Taichi gave a confident two finger salute as Kazuichi walked back upstairs.

 

When Kazuichi re-entered the bedroom, Chihiro was sat with his knees up and arms locked around them, sobbing into the blankets. “Chihiro?! What’s wrong?! What happened?!” Kazuichi’s heart felt heavy as he jumped into bed and pulled Chihiro close and began to smother the back of his head with kisses, allowing Chihiro to calm down and breathe slightly.  
“I’m here, there, there. I’m here.” Kazuichi reassured.  
“Th-thank goodness… I was so worried…” Chihiro breathed shakily and wiped his eyes.  
“Why were you worried?” Kazuichi laid Chihiro face down on the pillow and began to rub his back, something he remembered his mother doing after an especially gruelling day in the workshop, when young Kazuichi felt like dying in his sleep due to exhaustion.  
“I was scared you were just a dream and I was alone again…”  
“Oh, Chihiro…” Kazuichi lay next to him and let Chihiro grasp him, acting like a pillar of comfort. “I was just downstairs, it’s okay…”  
“I-I don’t wanna be alone again, Kaz… promise me! Promise me you’ll never leave me alone…!” Chihiro’s sobs were desperate and hit Kazuichi’s heart with every syllable.  
“Never in a thousand years will I ever abandon you, Chihiro. Even if the love goes cold and we have to part… we’ll never be distant. I’ll be by your side, partners or no, okay?” Kazuichi truly meant every word he said, almost as if a fraction of soul was put into every movement of his lips, every flick of his tongue. Darkness and silence shrouded them for a painful moment, oppressive and beguiling, keeping Kazuichi in lurid suspense.  
“I-I love you Kazuichi… I love you more than I can even say… I love you so, so much…” and with every word, Chihro’s voice became more and more distant, weaker and weaker still until they were snuffed out from the exhaustion he felt from crying so much. This caused Kazuichi to clutch him incredibly tightly, dead set on proving himself. His heart stopped pounding so wildly, returning to its normal beats per minute for the first time since Chihiro stepped through that lift and re-entered his life like a beautiful atomic bomb, leaving life in its wake rather than destruction. And so, Kazuichi fell asleep to the scent of pine and knowing that he had two people he would hold dear from now on.

 

That Christmas, Kazuichi Souda knew family for the first time in his life and fell sound into darkness, holding this to be the only truth he now knew for certain. Kazuichi was no longer alone. 

 

And that is why he wept joyously as he dreamt.


End file.
